


They Couldn't See Anything Else

by Cloud (ImpartialPotential), ImpartialPotential



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Bleh, CSA, College AU, Figure Drawing, Florist AU, Kinda, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Nudity, PTSD, added warning i forgot earlier, idk what else to tag it as, ill probably add tags on as i go, including the rape/noncon and underage bc my boy has trauma and thats brought up, nudity is a tag right, oof idk what else to tag this as
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-13 06:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpartialPotential/pseuds/Cloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpartialPotential/pseuds/ImpartialPotential
Summary: Jack Kelly is just a traumatized guy trying to get bi.and also, he gets nude for money. a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the title is taken from a quote i found on google because im uncreative
> 
> "Her nudity is her armor. It blinded the drooling fools. They couldn't see anything else while they saw her body." -Brent Weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fairly short (again, it's my first fic) so sorry about that

Jack shivered as the covering of snow crunched beneath the soles of his shoes and the tires of his bike, his warm breath clouding up in the frigid air. It was only November, but the temperature had dropped so much in the past couple of weeks that Medda, Jack's adoptive mother, was always reminding him to wear as many layers as possible. Jack compromised, wearing enough to keep him warm while also being able to actually move around. No amount of body heat could melt the snow under his feet though, and there was no way he was going to power through riding his bike across campus in weather like this. He had decided to bring his bike anyway, walking it across the school in case the sun warmed everything up enough to turn the snow into slush so he could bike back to the apartment he shared with Medda.

Jack chained his bike to the rack outside the visual arts classrooms. He walked inside, cupping his gloved hands together and breathing into them in an attempt to thaw his cold fingers. He started walking down the long hallway, looking to his right for the door to his Figure Drawing class. Finally, he saw it. Looking through the classroom door's small rectangular window, he saw that most of the class was already seated in a semicircle with their drawing pads out, some people talking quietly to each other. Jack put a hand on the cold door handle and pushed his way inside.

"Sorry I'm late," he grinned, closing the door behind him "I didn't realize there'd be this much snow; I had to walk here."

"It's alright, Jack." the teacher, Mr. Rhodes said with a tired but relieved sigh as Jack walked across the classroom to put his backpack by the wall. "Give me a heads up next time"

"Will do." Jack said with a lopsided grin, standing on one foot and leaning against the wall as he pulled his shoes and socks off. He shed his jacket, then the two sweaters under that. The sudden sensation of air on his skin made the hairs on his arms rise with goosebumps, but the room itself was kept fairly warm by a couple of space heaters pointed at the empty spot in front of the semicircle of students. 3 months into this semester and Jack still wasn't particularly close to anyone in here, not that he minded that much. Still, part of him wished to be part of their conversations.

Jack took a deep breath, then slipped his shirt off and dropped it on the floor next to his jacket and sweaters. He shivered, feeling exposed and cold. The other students were still chatting, but moved their drawing pads closer as they waited for him to get ready. Jack took off his belt and set it down on the floor, then took his pants off. He took another deep breath, his skin starting to flush at how exposed he was, then took off his boxers. Now completely nude, Jack Kelly walked forward to stand in front of a semicircle of 15 or so students who now hard their pencils ready and their attention on him. He pulled a stool to the center of the semicircle and sat down as they got to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack wakes up from a nightmare about his childhood and can't fall back asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise surprise, Jack has some issues
> 
> warning for mentions/allusions to childhood sexual abuse, child-on-child sexual abuse, rape, PTSD, etc
> 
> again, sorry if this isn't the best so far!

_Jack's eyes locked onto the cold, cruel blue eyes that peered into his soul from above him._

_He was kneeling on shag carpet in a dimly lit bedroom, 12 years old again. **He** stared down at Jack with those evil eyes, while the other He pinned Jack's arms behind his back, the cold edge of an old switchblade pressed against Jack's neck he coughed and tried to catch his breath as the owner of the ice blue eyes grinned with sharp, white teeth. A grey haze creeped over Jack's vision and his head felt light as he started to lose consciousness._

Jack bolted upright in bed, shivering in a cold sweat and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. He coughed and rubbed his throat, feeling the phantom sting of a knife against his skin. He was shaking, his teeth chattering, his mind racing in a loop of memories from years ago. Jack took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He turned a bit and reached over to his nightstand to check the time on his phone. _2:37_ shone back in blinding light. Jack rubbed his eyes and realized he had been crying, his cheeks hot and damp. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and turned to hand his legs off the bed.

Jack was freezing, even wearing sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt with the furnace on. He coughed into his elbow and stood up out of bed. He wanted to just curl up in bed and hug himself and feel like shit, but on the other hand he knew that sitting in the dark and crying would probably just make him feel. He groaned and picked his phone back up to turn his wake-up alarms off, knowing he'd never be able to go back to sleep now.

He set his phone back down and shuffled to his bedroom door, partially in a daze. He felt numb as he walked down the cold hallway to the bathroom. He felt filthy, _stained_ , and he needed to be clean. Jack closed the bathroom door and locked it, then turned the shower on. He sat down on the seat of the closed toilet and put his head in his hands. His throat as still tight, and he felt like he was choking. Steam from the shower was already starting to fog up the bathroom mirror. He still wasn't warm, but he figured the water was hot enough now.

Jack stood up and stripped down. He grimaced at the feeling of being naked, funny how yesterday being this exposed in front of people had made him grin and blush but today being naked in front of no one put him on the verge of breaking down even further. He took a shaky breath and stepped into the hot water. It was scalding, but the heat of it was the only sensation he could feel through the numbness of his body.

Jack scrubbed and scrubbed under the downpour of heat, trying his hardest to feel clean. He could no longer tell if he was crying or if that was the water falling on his face. He stepped out of the stream of hot water, the whole bathroom steamed up and his skin red. He inhaled another breath, less shaky than before, and turned the water off. Jack stood there for a second, skin tingling from the flush, before reaching a hand out from behind the shower curtain and grabbing a towel from the rack. Jack patted his face dry, then scrubbed the towel through his short hair to dry it.

Jack pulled back the shower curtain and stepped onto the floor. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he turned to the bathroom sink to brush his teeth. He gagged at the sensation of something in his mouth but he knew it wasn't smart to ignore his health when he's upset. He picked his clothes up off the floor and walked through the dark back to his room.

He tossed the towel and his clothes into the hamper by his door, then walked to his dresser for a clean pair of boxers and a shirt. Jack picked at the bits of paint dried into the threads of an old grey t-shirt before pulling it on along with a pair of boxer briefs. Checking his phone for the time again, he sighed as _3:02_ stared back at him. He set down his phone and walked to the light switch by the door, no point in sitting in the dark if he wasn't going to get back to sleep.

" _I hope I don't wake up Medda_ " he thought, walking back to his dresser to pick up his laptop. Settling down on his bed with the computer in his lap, he booted it up then started typing an email to Mr. Rhodes, rain-checking him on today's figure drawing session.

 _I'm having a rough morning, I didn't sleep well and I'm going through some rough stuff lately_ Jack typed _I won't be able to come in today, and probably for the next couple of days too. I'll keep you updated, but tbh I'll probably be out of commission for the rest of the week._

Jack signed his name and hit send. He was exhausted, but going back to sleep meant dreaming about it again and he wasn't going to entertain that thought for even a second. Stifling a yawn, he opened up tumblr, intending to get lost scrolling through memes and rants until the sun came up. The room was too quiet for him, so he grabbed his headphones from the floor and plugged them into his phone. He clicked on a noise generator app, his brain still too foggy to decide on what music to listen to so he played thunder sound generator instead. Jack breathed deeply as the sound of rumbling storms washed over him, he smiled softly and returned to scrolling through his dashboard.

~~~~~

Medda knocked on Jack's door around 5:45. He jumped slightly, wide eyes glued to the door.

Jack coughed. "Yeah?" he asked, uncertainty tinting his voice.

"You doin' alright sweetheart?" Medda asked softly from the other side of the door.

"I've been better." Jack sighed "But I'm doing alright for now."

"Alright," Medda said a bit skeptically "Text me if you need anything."

"Mhmm." Jack replied. He heard Medda walk away, and he relaxed a bit. He didn't realize how tense he felt talking to her. With a sigh, he slid his laptop onto the bed and stood up. He groaned and stretched, his legs protesting with a cramp. Jack rubbed his face with his hand and grabbed a pair of jeans from his dresser. He nearly tripped getting his pants on, but he eventually succeeded. He was getting cold again, but nowhere near as frigid as he was when he woke up. He considered putting a sweater on, but decided against it. He wasn't in the mood to have something around his wrists, even if it was just sleeves.

Jack made his way out of his room and into the kitchen. He nodded at Medda as he passed her reading in the living room. With a yawn, he opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice he saw. He shook it up and poured it into a tall glass, then crushed the empty carton and put it in the trash. He sipped his juice and looked around the kitchen, trying to figure out what to eat. He grabbed a slice of white bread from the bag of bread sitting on the counter, then made his way to the living room with his sad excuse for breakfast in his hands. He plopped down next to Medda on the couch and rested his head gently on her shoulder. The sound of him sipping on juice and her flipping pages was the only disturbance in the calm room.

Jack didn't even realize he had drifted off until Medda gently nudged him awake. She must've set his food somewhere else, his hands were empty now, and he was leaning the other way now, onto the armrest of the couch. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"I have to go to rehearsal." Medda said as she stood up "Are you gunna be okay by yourself?"

"I'm fine, Medda," Jack said, quieter than he had meant to be. He smiled softly.

"Uh-huh." Medda nodded skeptically with a smile. She took the dusty pink afghan off the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders, tenderly kissing Jack on the top of his head. "I'm havin' dinner with some friends of mine after rehearsal, so I'll be home late." she added with a pat on his shoulder. Jack nodded quietly, and leaned forward to grab his orange juice and a battered copy of Andy Weir's _The Martian_. He hadn't touched it in a few weeks, but he got sucked back into the middle of Mark Watney trying to unfuck the situation he was in.

He certainly wasn't feeling his best, but he was feeling better and that was a start.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack orders coffee and some flowers

Jack woke up in the cold living room, still curled up on the couch with the afghan wrapped around him. A golden beam of sunlight shone through the window in front of him, landing on his face and warming him a bit. He kicked his legs out and stretched with a yawn. Rubbing his eyes as he sat up, Jack scanned the room for a second before remembering that Medda had already left.

He stood with a groan that turned into another big yawn, his copy of _The Martian_ tumbling off his lap to the floor. He picked up the book and set it on the coffee table, then grabbed his mostly empty cup of juice and walked to the kitchen to set it in the sink. He turned the faucet on, steaming water soon pouring forth. With some dish soap and the green souring pad of a kitchen sponge, Jack scrubbed his hands under the hot water till they were red. He shook the water off his hands and gently patted them dry with a dish rag.

Part of him still felt wrong. It'd take at least a few hours, if not days, to shake the thought that he was overreacting to what happened. Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes again. Making his way out of the kitchen and back to his room, he stretched his stiff arms and cracked his neck. Jack raked his fingers through his hair as he grabbed his phone from where he left it on his bed, picking up his headphones with it and putting them around his neck. He put his phone in his pocket, along with his wallet and the keys to the apartment, then tugged on a pair of thick green socks from his dresser and made his way back to the front door to pull on his boots.

He pulled his coat on, then patted his pockets to check if his phone and wallet and keys were still there. Finding everything in order, he walked back to his room for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour to stuff his sketchbook and laptop into the backpack now hanging from his shoulders. He flicked the lights off in the apartment as he made his way out the front door, patting his pockets again to make sure he didn't forget anything before locking the door behind him.

It was still early, about 7 AM according to his phone, but Jack's mind was nowhere near able to stand going to class. No, he wasn't planning on attending class. He just had to get out of the apartment for a while, away from the still air and quiet rooms and carpeted floors. He was headed towards the closest place he could think of that rarely had one of those things; the Starbucks a few blocks down the street.

Yesterday's snow had partly melted in the morning sun, turning into dirty grey slush. It sloshed under Jack's boots as he trudged down the street. No new snow was falling, at least not yet, but he still shivered in the crisp autumn air. He was starting to regret not wearing a sweater under his jacket, but he didn't want to bother turning back now. He could see the green and white sign of the Starbucks just across the street, and he rushed through the crosswalk as the light turned. As he stepped onto the curb and turned to the left, something in the window of the store next to the Starbucks caught his eye.

The store had been vacant on and off for months, cafes and boutiques and such coming and going but never staying. It'd been a little while since Jack came down this way, but only a few weeks had passed since the last time he craved coffee and a loud room. Now in front of him was a florist's shop, a little sign in the window humbly announcing its opening last Monday. He smiled a little, he was always happy to see flower arrangements bringing a bit of color to the grey drab of the city, but he walked past the door of the flower shop and into the clamor of Starbucks on a weekday morning.

It was hot and loud, but not too crowded. Jack took his place at the back of the line, six or so people in front of him. As the line inched forward slowly, Jack rocked back and forth on his heels to mind the time. He heard the door open and felt the cool outside air whoosh in, making the hairs on his neck stand on end. The door didn't close immediately though, and Jack turned in curiosity to see what the hold up was.

The hold up was, in fact, a man holding the door for a rather petite boy with elbow crutches. Jack didn't mean to stare, but something about the boy's grateful smile struck a chord with him, how the corners of his eyes creased and his nose wrinkled. Jack felt like he could stare at that smile for centuries and never tire of it. The boy turned, his gaze meeting Jack's as he took his place in line. Jack turned quickly and awkwardly, he could feel his cheeks starting to warm as a blush started to betray him. The boy didn't say anything, just shuffled forward as the line moved up again.

Now that the door was closed again, the heat was returning to the room. The line was starting to move faster, and the population of the room was shrinking as people picked up their coffee and left. Now it was Jack, the woman in front of him, a couple waiting for their coffees, the stranger who had held the door open, and the boy with the crutches. The woman finished ordering what sounded like an office coffee run (she had ordered around six different drinks), and Jack took her place in front of the cashier.

Jack smiled politely at the cashier, ordered a grande black coffee, and gave the cashier his money and name. He was stuffing his change into his wallet when he noticed the donation box on the counter. It was for a local children's hospital, a clear plastic box with the logo of the hospital printed on the stickers plastered to the sides and top of it. The sad smile of a bald kid stared back at him, compelling Jack to stuff a $5 bill into the slot on the top of the box.

He set his backpack down on the floor as he sat down at a table against the wall, next to the front window looking out onto the street. It didn't take long for the barista to call his name, and he stood and grabbed it from the counter. He set it down on the table as he sat, then pulled out his laptop again, connecting to the cafe's wifi. There was a new email in his inbox. He opened it, and relaxed at Mr. Rhodes's reply to his earlier email; _Don't worry about coming in today._ it said _Just take care of yourself. See you on Monday._ Jack sipped his coffee as he checked tumblr again, finding nothing new that piqued his interest. He stifled another yawn, drowning it with another sip of coffee. It burned, but Jack Kelly is not a patient man. With a small shrug, Jack opened up DeviantArt. He mainly used it as a way to publish his art, trying to get commissions, but again there was nothing new for him to care about, save for a few challenges that were recently posted. Maybe he'd do one of those later.

The door opened again, and his eyes were drawn reflexively to the movement. The kid with the crutches was leaving, carrying his drink with the thumb, index, and middle finger of his left hand like a claw machine so he could still use his palm, pinkie, and ring finger to grip the handle of his crutch. Jack's mood fell a bit watching the guy leave, his gaze lingering on the kid's back as he crutched down the sidewalk. Jack's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as the blond boy turned and walked into the florist shop that had caught his interest not long ago. Was he getting flowers for someone? How would he even carry them, with his hands already occupied with his crutches? Jack tried his best to shrug it off by taking another sip of coffee and returning his gaze to his laptop. Again, nothing new caught his eye. He shut his laptop with a sigh, then checked the time on his phone. _7:27_. Jack huffed, the morning seemed to drag of for ages.

He drummed his fingers on the table, eyebrows furrowed in thought, trying to figure out what to do next. Jack returned his laptop to his backpack, slung it over his shoulders once again, and grabbed his coffee. As he pushed out the door, the crisp sting of late autumn numbed his ears. He inhaled deeply, then turned toward the new floristry shop. A quick check of the store's hours on the door told him that it was open, and as he pushed in the gentle perfume of dozens of varieties of flowers filled his lungs. He couldn't even see the clerk's counter, the store was so densely filled with plants and flower arrangements. He shuffled his weight between his feet, awkwardly playing with the strap of his backpack and looking around before taking a step deeper into the forest of flowers.

Jack knew jack about flowers. He knew the basic ones, roses and daisies and stuff, but no clue about what the flower he was nose deep in was named. It had 6 petals, long and arranged like the arms of a star. They belled outwards sort of like a trumpet, and each petal was white with a speckled blush of pink down the center. The smell was faint and sweet, angelic in the way vanilla candles could only dream of. Each flower had a long, slender stem settled together in a simple cylindrical black vase on the shelf.

"You like lilies?" The question startled Jack, who jumped with a short yelp. He whipped around, right hand dramatically grabbing his shirt over his heart, left hand clutching the shelf the lilies sat on. The blond kid was grinning at him from a stool behind the counter, visibly stifling giggles . He had swapped his jacket for a green apron.

Jack's heart skipped a beat, but he figured it was cause of the fright the kid gave him. "I uhh,," Jack cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck "I don't know a thing about flowers. I was just uh, _perusing_..." The kid—no, the florist—made an amused noise and sipped his coffee with a slight smirk.

Florist guy set down his coffee and leaned forward on the counter on his elbows. "Just perusing? Or are you actually going to buy something." The question hung in the air for a second as Jack looked around considering it.

"Sure," Jack said with a shrug "Medda keeps saying our apartment is getting gloomy."

"Medda?" Florist guy asked, slipping off the stool and grabbing his crutches. "They your roommate or something?"

"Oh she's something alright," Jack chuckled as Florist Guy crutched over. "Yeah, she's my roommate. She's at work right now and won't be home till late tonight, I figured I'd spruce up our living room or something instead of sitting at home being emo." Jack grinned.

Florist Guy laughed softly, and god if Jack swear he had died on his walk to get coffee and that room then was heaven, this angel laughing with him surrounded by flowers. Jack flushed and cleared his throat. "So, uh, flowers?" Smooth, Kelly, real smooth. "I mean, what would you recommend this time of year?"

Florist Guy bit his lip, his eyes wandering in thought. _Fuck he's cute when he does that_ Jack thought. "Lilies are always popular, and it looked like you liked those, so how about we start there?" Florist Guy asked, looking back into Jack's eyes with his eyebrows raised.

"Sounds good." Jack said, forcing his eyes to wander around the other foliage to avoid staring at Florist Guy's eyes. Florist Guy's beautiful, warm eyes.

"Alright, can you grab them for me? Just grab the vase," Florist Guy ordered and crutched toward the back of the store to grab a block of green foam. Jack grabbed the flowers like he was asked, and set the vase on an open spot on the counter. Florist Guy walked over, his left crutch tucked under his armpit and the foam in his left hand, using his right crutch like a cane. Florist guy set the foam on the counter—Jack now noticed it was soaking wet—then pulled open a drawer to rifle through it for what looked to Jack like a box cutter and scissors of some kind. Florist Guy set them down on the counter and pulled his stool closer so he could sit down and work. Florist Guy settled back onto his seat and looked up at Jack. "I was thinking some roses?" Florist Guy asked, "These lilies would probably go well with orange, or maybe lavender? Oh! Or," he said, pointing excitedly in the direction of the front window, "we just got a shipment of carnations."

Florist Guy was grinning expectantly at Jack, who blinked back. Boy this kid talks _fast_ when he's excited. "Uhh," Jack managed to find his voice, "whatever you think looks good I guess, I'm no florist."

Florist Guy laughed softly again, and Jack found himself laughing with him. He hadn't meant to be funny, but this guy's happiness was infectious. "If you would be so kind," Florist Guy said with a gesture toward the front window, "grab the carnations from the shelf up front."

Jack did as Florist Guy commanded, and walked through the colorful forest of shelves up to the front, where he found several vases of flowers labeled carnations, similar to the vases the lilies were in. "You want the white ones or the red ones?" Jack called over to the counter.

"Actually, can you bring both?" Florist Guy called back. Jack made an 'mhmm' noise and grabbed both vases before making his way back to the counter. Florist Guy had wheeled over a cart of vases filled with roses of all different colors, and he was now shaving the green block of foam to fit in the nicer vase he had picked for Jack's flowers. Jack set the carnations on the counter.

When Florist Guy had the foam settled snugly in the vase, picked through the vase of lilies for a suitable couple of flowers. Finding several to his liking, he pulled the long stems from their vases and set them on the counter.

"So, you got a name?" Jack asked, casually leaning against the counter like this guy didn't make him red as a fire hydrant.

Florist Guy didn't look up as he snipped the stem to a manageable length. "Crutchie." he said with a small smile.

"What?"

Florist Guy looked up at him then. "I said my name's Crutchie. On account of me being on crutches."

"Well yeah I know _why_ you're called that," Jack said awkwardly, "but why _that_? Don't you have a normal name?" Jack regretted his choice of words as soon as he said them, seeing Florist Guy—Crutchie—stiffen at the question. "God that came out wr—"

"Don't." Crutchie cut him off, "Don't stick on why I go by that." He reoccupied his hands with the arrangement, sticking the stems of the lilies into the vase, then sorting through carnations to find some nice ones to go around them. "Whats yours?"

"Hm?" Jack quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, right, names. I'm Jack." Goddamn this was getting even more awkward. If earlier had been heaven, Jack had thrown himself off the puffy white clouds and straight into the suffering pits of hell. Alright, maybe that was a _bit_ hyperbolic, but Jack wasn't one to downplay neither good nor bad.

Crutchie stuck some dark pink roses in the gaps between the lilies and carnations. "Mhmm." he said absentmindedly. Jack drummed his fingers the counter, his eyes wandering awkwardly again.

"Are you a student?" Jack attempted to change the subject.

"Yeah, yeah I am," Crutchie said, breaking his focus on the flowers. "I want to be a teacher maybe, I've always liked kids." He smiled softly in thought before picking up a rose and turning the vase to find a spot for it.

"Really? I wouldn't have pinned that on you," Jack smirked.

"Why's that?" Crutchie glanced at him.

"I don't know," Jack shrugged, "I figured you'd be some kind of horticulture student or something. You're a florist, I figured plants were your thing"

"I get that," Crutchie said. "Speaking of plants, your arrangement is done."

Jack took a look at it, realizing he'd spent the whole time either gazing at Crutchie's face or awkwardly looking around the shop. It was beautiful, the white and pink lilies he'd looked at earlier surrounded by red and white carnations and dark pink roses. The lip of the white vase was lined with dark green ferns, their fronds curling elegantly around the vase. More ferns were added throughout to break up the monochromatic swath of color.

"It looks great," Jack said.

Crutchie nodded in agreement and started ringing Jack up. "That'll be $24.99," Crutchie said matter-of-factly.

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "That much for a bunch of flowers?"

Crutchie shrugged. "It's fall, prices are higher right now cause it's harder to grow good flowers around this time of year. We're actually on the cheaper end of the scale"

"Yeah, guess that makes sense," Jack said, pulling out his wallet and handing Crutchie a twenty and a ten. Crutchie took the money and started sorting through the change.

Jack pulled the arrangement to his side of the counter and took his change from Crutchie with a smile. He stuffed the money into his wallet, then the wallet into his pocket, then picked up the vase carefully.

"See you around, I guess," Jack smiled.

"See you," Crutchie waved as Jack walked out the door.

Jack checked his phone for the time when he got outside. _8:57_. Had he really spent an hour and a half talking to some guy about _plants_? He was actually mildly surprised, he thought that had taken a lot longer than it had, and yet he wanted for it to keep going even longer. Jack felt like could've spent hours talking to Crutchie about whatever came to mind. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and walked across the crosswalk, heading back to the apartment.

The sun was finally starting to warm everything, and he felt its light melting into him. He smiled and walked along, encumbered by the vase of flowers in his arms but glad his morning was becoming somewhat less awful. Dare he say, there might even be a skip in his step. He rushed through the door of his building, up the stairs to his apartment, unlocked the door in a happy rush, and stood in his living room looking for a spot for the flowers.

He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a second, walking around slowly looking for a place for the vase. He spotted the perfect home for the vase, a table under the sunny window next to Medda's favorite reading chair. Jack set the vase down carefully, turning it so the best side was facing the living room. He smiled at it, a small oasis of color in their cold living room. He was already starting to feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI IM SORRY ITS BEEN LIKE 3 WEEKS SINCE I LAST UPDATED I WRITE SLOWLY AND I WANTED TO MAKE THIS GOOD, PLUS I HAD FINALS AND CHRISTMAS AND SEEING FAMILY AND TWO BIRTHDAYS TO DEAL WITH AND JSKJWDDKJH POINT IS HERES YOUR GAY
> 
> also woops this also ended up with a florist au


End file.
